


Under a Silent Sky

by Marta



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, Gap Filler, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-27
Updated: 2010-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marta/pseuds/Marta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slaying the Balrog was the easy part. A drabble series about what came after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under a Silent Sky

I.

Before him, Gandalf could feel the bridge quake. A deep weariness settled onto his soul, like water round a drowning man's throat, and he felt his shoulders sag against his will.

He knew, somehow without looking, that the others awaited him just on the other side. Boromir's sword would be ready, and someone must be holding Samwise back with difficulty. And what of Estel? They waited for him, but he would not come. Could not.

So be it. With a great effort Gandalf lifted his heavy staff and let it fall, cracking the ancient masonry at last. And he fell.

II.

He blinked at the dark, unsure where he was. Slowly, memories returned to him: a great weariness, and a cracking bridge, and a fall through flame and ice. Could one such as he die?

A day or an age he passed in solitude, until at last he felt his brethren approach. Whitherfore dost thou weep, Nienna, cousin? For the children, or for my sake? I who have long shepherded them to further doom? And how long must the Mighty tarry in the furthest West?

Olórin found no answers, and no peace, only certainty: that his task was not yet done.

III.

Afterward, when the minstrels came for his stories, Gandalf would glower until they left him be, or else tell them sweet lies. He was glad to see Gondor renewed, truly, and the king returned, but in his heart he felt little joy. Aragorn might rightly sit in glory, with his queen by his side, but the Pelennor still stunk from the battle-pyres.

Even so, his pipeweed-pouch was full once again, and the sun shone brightly. And he had time at last, free to follow his troubled thoughts. That was something. Leaning back, he blew a smoke ring over the garden.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Elie Wiesel's Night, in particular this passage describing the crematoriums of the Nazi concentration camps: "Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky. Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith forever."


End file.
